


Come Closer

by arcadianpetriedish



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Light BDSM, Non-Graphic Smut, Pre-X-Files Revival, Strippers & Strip Clubs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-07 08:46:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6797200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadianpetriedish/pseuds/arcadianpetriedish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mulder's been going to strip clubs for a very specific reason, while Scully finds a new hobby that she can only do in the dark.</p><p>Later, Scully is less than thrilled to discover that Mulder is dragging her back to Texas.  She decided that this time, it's going to be different.  REALLY different.</p><p>Her rule about never ordering pizza delivery in Texas still stands, though.  She'll never budge on that one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Foolish Games

One thing Dana Scully found convenient about being single was that she never had to explain the occasional bruises on her breasts to anyone; no one was going to see them anytime soon, she rationalized to herself, so it didn’t _really_ matter if Fox Mulder continued to have a lousy aim with projectiles. 

“Hey, Mulder,” she’d ask from across the office, where she would usually work on reports while perched on a stack of paper boxes that could be hilariously referred to as her “area”.  Her corner.  A designated desk-free zone.  Still.

“Could you toss me that ----?”  Fill in the blank.  Name it, and there’s a good chance he had softly lobbed it to her – _and missed --_ during their nearly seven years of inhabiting the basement office of the FBI’s Most Unwanted.

Newspapers, bottles of White Out, pads of Post It notes, the occasional apple…  Mulder was no slouch on a baseball diamond; she’d witnessed that first-hand, so she came to the conclusion that he was just doing it to get a rise out of her (and possibly also himself).  Every one of her arched eyebrows was met with his sheepish lopsided grin and a “My bad!” helpless shrug.  That little grin he had could certainly be the death of her; she couldn’t stay mad at him when he looked at her like a wide-eyed puppy.  Bastard.  His eyes were her kryptonite (not that she’d ever admit it to him).  She wouldn’t, however, give Mulder the satisfaction of letting him see her rub the point of impact to ease the slight throbbing.  Besides, he never actually hurt her.  She **did** catch most of what he chucked at her; she just always caught it against her chest, as she’d done for most of her life.  Mulder clearly filed this away in the endless expanse of his brain, and when the opportunity arose, he always made use of it.  Was he flirting with her, in that uniquely Mulderesque way that was better suited to a third grade playground, or was he just being…Mulder?  He who does not play well with others (at least, those who are not named Dana Scully).  

Her basement buddy.  Her partner.

Her best friend.

_It was an accidental game, of sorts, that started long ago, in a motel room with horrible TV reception.  The bunny-ear antenna on the old TV was teasing Mulder with brief flashes of a clear broadcast, then just as quickly dissolving into noisy static.  He was losing control of what little patience he had left, and as such, had not seen Agent Scully approach him to try and help him fight his newly sworn enemy._

_Fox Mulder was done with the damn antenna._

_“Is it TOO much to ask for a functional television, Scully?  I mean, Jesus!  I know this isn’t exactly the Ritz Carlton; I don’t need a mint on the pillow, I just want to watch my show,” Mulder grumbled.  “Could you hand me that coat hanger,” he asked as he pivoted on his heel, arm outstretched to point out the hanger on the bedside table behind him._

_Mulder froze when his pointer finger connected with something both solid, yet giving.  His eyes darted to see what it was, then widened in sheer horror when he realized that he’d actually connected,_ **was connecting** _, with Agent Scully’s breast.  Her bewildered blue eyes looked up to meet his as Mulder withdrew his arm like he’d touched fire._

_“OHMYGOD!!  Scully!  I’m sorry!  I, I didn’t know you were right behind me,” he stammered, flushing with mortification and wishing he could drop into the floor._

_“That’s not a coat hanger, Mulder,” Scully coolly muttered, arching an eyebrow and trying to suppress a smile at the helpless look of terror on her partner’s face.  The impish streak she kept so well-hidden in front of Mulder silently piped up in Scully’s head:_ Forget the TV; were you trying to turn ME on?

_Truthfully, the brief connection actually **had** been a small thrill for Scully; the all-too-brief moment of contact sent an icy shiver down her spine, through her toes, and back to the ice machine in the motel corridor.  It was a bit unexpected, and she hoped her face wasn’t burning as red as her hair._

_Mulder was still apologizing, taking her silence as anger, since he had no way of knowing that her train of thought had derailed to some of the more minute details of his personal hotel room habits that only came out late at night.  She snapped back to attention.  She had to let the poor boy off the hook._

_“Mulder!  It’s okay. Really,” she said, allowing a small smile to play across her lips.  She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, thinking she’d just have to get him back when he wasn’t expecting it._

Scully had slowly permitted herself to acknowledge the growing crush she’d developed for Mulder over the course of their partnership.  She was still far too shy to clue him into this; the one thing Dana Scully relished was control, and she didn’t allow herself to relinquish even a miniscule amount unless she knew with 100% certainty that rejection was not an option, and with Mulder, she never could tell.

This led to a lot of lonely nights.  Many of them were spent in an adjoining hotel room to Mulder, where more than once, as she lay in bed, quietly reading a book, she’d hear a sudden thump of the headboard against the connecting wall.  Scully wondered if the FBI ever questioned some of the “additional charges” on Mulder’s hotel bills; he sometimes broke open the minibar in the room after a tough day in the field, and the TV started blaring not too long after that.  She knew he wasn’t watching the news. 

She wondered what he’d do if he knew that sometimes curiosity got the best of her.  When someone lives alone for an extended period of time, like Scully had been doing for years, they sometimes pick up habits that might seem ~~creepy~~ ~~strange~~ _different_ to those who generally spent their off-work time in the company of other humans.  Scully was well aware of how people typically took her no-nonsense, coolly professional demeanor at work; they steered clear.  None of them knew about the _other_ side of Dana Scully; the one who not only did _not_ rat out her partner for having a drawer full of porn **at work** , but had actually spent one rare Saturday at the office, tidying up the paper tsunami of clutter Mulder usually left in his wake.  She already knew about the drawer full of tapes.  That day, Scully impulsively decided that her morbid curiosity must be sated.  She’d spent some time going through the different titles and imagining what Mulder must be like in his _true_ free time.  She would put a tape in the VCR with the Blockbuster mantra imprinted in her head – _Be Kind! Please Rewind!_ – but before she did that, she always pressed play first, wondering what vision would greet her _this_ time.  The adrenaline flowed as her eyes darted around the office and towards the door, looking for any approaching shadows.  She spent a full afternoon doing this, and in the process, felt like she got to know Mulder in a much-more _personal_ way.  She even briefly toyed with the idea of bringing a black light to the office, but nixed it when she thought about Mulder stroking out if he happened to walk in on that little experiment.  Little puppy bastard.  Little puppy bastard who owned titles such as _Buffy, the Vampire Layer._   Seriously?

So while they were tucked away into cheap hotels in the Middle of Nowhere, America, Scully began to notice the occasional thumps and squeaks from their connecting walls.  Her curiosity finally got the best of her at 3:30 one morning, when the activity next door seemed to be getting a bit intense, and after she did it once, well, she was hooked.  She’d turn off the lights in her room and stand on her bed, ear to the wall, trying to make out the faint noises from the other room and determine which ones were happening in real time.  She wondered if he burrowed under the covers in the dark as the screen flashed in front of him, or was he of the more adventurous, lights on, out in the open, _no fucks given_ persuasion.  Scully would love to find out, once and for all, but as she was the “ice queen”, she doubted she’d find out for herself anytime soon.

The most recent episode of “Boob-gate” forgotten for the moment, Mulder had returned to his reports.  Scully was still reminiscing about where it all began.  She suddenly remembered one last detail.

_Later that same night, as she was beginning to drift off to sleep, she’d heard it._

**_Thump._ **

_That time, though, she never heard the TV._

Scully stole a quick glance at Mulder, his lanky frame bent over his (real, actual) desk; that little floof of hair falling in his eyes.  He absently brushed it away and reached for a sunflower seed, never taking his eyes off of the paperwork in front of him. 

 _Damn this crush_ , Scully thought, feeling like she’d been transported back to junior high.  This is why she projected that cool exterior to the world.  Silly stuff like this just distracted her from her work.

Scully fought off the brief daydream where she walked up behind him and ran her fingers through his hair.  He’d probably love it.  He also might look at her as if she’d sprouted another head.  She blinked herself back to reality.  She wished that she could still call Melissa for advice about situations like this.  She missed her sister.  She even knew what Melissa’s advice would be:

_You have to tell him!_

Maybe someday, she would.


	2. Fantasy

Fox Mulder was a sexual being. He couldn’t help it; he was hard-wired that way, and he wasn’t ashamed. 

Sex was a healthy, natural act. Sex was relaxing. Sex was fun.

Sex was something Mulder had not had with another person in quite some time.

He’d always caught the eye of various ladies (and occasionally men) when he sometimes ventured out of his apartment on nights he wasn’t buried in a case. They’d see the expensive suit, smell the exquisite scent of his bank account, and come running; not that he noticed. He didn’t particularly see himself as a garden gnome, or anything of the sort, but his mental image of himself, lanky and somewhat awkward, foot permanently residing in mouth, didn’t mesh with the adjectives that some of these ladies threw at him. Thank you, ma’am (or sir). Keep moving. He wasn’t interested.

He was very visually-oriented, though. He liked to watch. The DC Metro area had plenty of high class adult entertainment venues, and from time to time, Mulder found himself with a stage-side view. He’d even received a few lap dances throughout the years, purposefully ignoring the fact that for the past couple of years, the ladies he chose were strictly smallish redheads. He tipped them very well. Afterwards, once he’d made the trek home, fed the fish, and settled in on the couch, it was easy to vividly replay the dances in his head, down to every last detail.

The only thing he changed was the face. 

Nothing got him hotter. Just the thought of Scully straddling his lap, even fully clothed, caused all the blood in his head to immediately head south. Scully lowering the lights, sidling up to him, raising her perfect little eyebrow at him as she lost her inhibitions and put one leg across his thigh. He would cup her ass and pull her the rest of the way into his lap. She’d scoot closer, taking his tie in her hands, slowly untying it as she stared directly into his eyes. He’d lean back in his chair a bit as she removed his tie and slung it around her own neck, before starting to work on the buttons of his crisp white shirt. She’d stare into his soul, then slowly lean in to place a lingering kiss on his chest, looking up at him through her lashes.

This was usually as far as Mulder ever got in his fantasy before sliding further under the afghan on his couch, kicking off his shorts, and stroking himself into a frenzy, knees drawing up and his brow knitting in extreme concentration as the electric jolt ripped through his body, leaving him spent, sweat slick, and panting ragged breaths alone on his couch, only one name on his lips.


	3. Texas?

Scully hated Texas.  Every time she and Mulder ended up there, it seemed like they ended up caught in the middle of something bizarre, even for them.  When she arrived to work to find an excited Mulder thrusting a plane ticket into her hand, she sighed in acceptance.  _Here we go again_ , she thought.

Scully tuned out Mulder’s rushed babbling about the details of the case, as the cab whisked them closer to the Dulles International Airport later that afternoon.  Whatever it was, she’d deal with it in the morning.  The only available flight into Dallas was late, so they’d book rooms and get a fresh start.  Scully couldn’t help but notice how exuberant her partner was all day.  He was in a really, really good mood the entire time; she figured he must have had a good night of solid rest.  She had no way of knowing that he actually _did_ sleep like a baby after thoroughly wearing himself out to a sultry scenario starring her.

The plane ride was rather non-eventful.  Scully dozed against the window, then unconsciously shifted, leaning her head on Mulder’s shoulder.  He accepted his new role as Scullypillow with pride; his face positively beamed with a grin he was unable to hide.  They stayed that way for a while, and Mulder was genuinely disappointed when nature called him to the little boy’s room in the sky.  He gently shifted his sleeping partner off of his shoulder and back into her seat.  She stirred and woke in time to see him heading towards the lavatory.  Without warning, a single thought slammed into her brain.

_Mile High Club._

Scully bit her lip at the thought.  That damn imp was at it again.  A sly smile spread across her features.  Still sleepy, it was there when Mulder returned to his seat.  She indulged in a rather languid, feline stretch, then re-settled into the not-particularly comfortable business class seat.  He took note and smiled his sweet puppy dog smile at her.  God, she could eat him alive.

She could tell that this trip was going to be different.


	4. Eggs & Leggs

There were, naturally, no hotels in the little nowhere town outside of Dallas where they would be investigating in the morning, so Mulder and Scully opted for a somewhat decent hotel in the city.  Scully was pleased; she suggested they go out to dinner instead of just grabbing takeout like they were wont to do.  Never pizza, though.  No more pizza in Texas.  Scully would not budge on that detail.  Mulder had zero opposition to a dinner out with his beautiful companion.  They retreated to their rooms to put away their luggage, and Scully opened the curtains to take in the gorgeous view of the…

…XXX Superstore directly across the freeway.  That seemed rather out of place, but the imp already spotted the novelty.  Dana Scully was not just an FBI agent; she was a doctor.  She never felt comfortable visiting any of the establishments near her apartment back home.  She was self-conscious of being spotted in a place like that by someone she might know.  She clearly did not share Mulder’s tendencies to shamelessly frequent local entertainment venues or adult supply houses.  As she peered through the window, she noticed that the XXX Superstore was actually one half of the building; the other was a strip club called _Eggs & Leggs_.  How quaint.

She wanted to go.  What had gotten into her today?  She actually kind of liked it.

Mulder had also spotted the adult plaza across the freeway.  The memory of last night’s escapades, including the late-night mental replay, were fresh in his mind.  He briefly entertained the idea that he could convince Scully to go with him; maybe she’d loosen up a bit.  She was never really enthused about their jaunts to Texas, anyway.  He’d love to change her opinion.  He shot that thought down with a short bark of laughter.  No way in hell would Special Agent Dana Katherine Scully, _Medical Doctor_ dare step a dainty foot in a joint like that.  He shrugged to himself.  Maybe he could borrow the car long enough to sneak over after dinner.  Maybe he could even find a little Texas fireball to give him the impetus for a cozy little scenario he could face-swap later.

But first, dinner.

As it turned out, Big Daddy’s BBQ, the restaurant Scully chose, was on the other, “adult” side of the freeway from the hotel.  Despite the name, it was a relatively decent business class establishment, and the ribs were out of this world.  Mulder was surprised by the amount of beer Scully was putting back; she’d usually have one or two when they went out, but she was enthusiastic this night. 

Fox Mulder loved Dana Scully; there was no question of that.  He’d come to this realization long ago.  He tried telling her once; the eye roll he received in response left him feeling neutered for the entire week that followed.  Ultimately, Scully was still Scully, and Mulder still loved her.  Her heart, her intelligence, not to mention the times he was able to crack her cool exterior and uncover the delightfully mischievous minx who was ready to come out and play.  It took work, but it was so worth it.  The rare sight of Tipsy Scully was one Mulder adored.  He sat back and smiled as he watched her become more animated and giggly.  She was adorable.  Mulder was snapped out of his thoughts as Scully suddenly exclaimed, “FUCK me!”  What?  Mulder blinked and tried to figure out what made her so suddenly feisty.  She’d dripped a bit of BBQ sauce onto her white shirt, and was looking down at the stain, totally aggravated.  He chuckled softly.  Scully usually retained her more educated vocabulary, but when her guard was down, no one was safe. Hell, she could even make _Mulder_ blush, and his ears were never known to be delicate.

“It’ll come out.  Don’t let it ruin your night,” Mulder gently said, with a smile on his face, and his eyebrows slightly raised in that charming way he had that made her melt inside.

_Mile High Club._

Scully lowered her eyelashes and grinned at him.

“I’m good.  You about ready to get out of here?”

Mulder called for the check.


	5. The Imp

As they left the restaurant, Mulder and Scully started feeling the force of the beer they’d consumed.  They were both a bit wobbly on their feet.  Mulder didn’t want to drive back to the hotel yet, even if it wasn’t far.  He suggested they take a walk and enjoy the warm spring air while they sobered up a bit.

Scully realized she was tipsier than she’d thought.  What a _fabulous_ development!  She chuckled and realized she was teetering close to full-on _fuck it_ mode, and she didn’t think Mulder had met that side of her yet.   Maybe it was time for an introduction.   She slowly eyed her partner up and down, like a panther. 

 _J_ _esus, he is hot_ , the imp reminded her. 

 _Fuck off; my eyes work_ , she thought.  Besides, she didn’t need that nagging little voice reminding boring little Scully what she _could_ be doing. 

Tonight, she was doing it, whatever “it” was.  She was sure she’d find out at some point during the night. 

She grabbed Mulder’s hand.

They were maybe a block away from the entrance to _Eggs & Leggs._

“I don’t wanna go back yet, Mulder.  Let’s have fun,” she implored him.

Mulder was swaying just a bit as he walked, still holding her hand.

“Sure, m’lady.  What did you have in mind?”

They were in front of the strip club.

Scully’s eyes lit up with mischievous glee.

She glanced at the club, then looked back at Mulder, arching a brow and breaking into a big smile.

“You wanna?”  She squeezed his hand tighter and gently tugged it in the direction of the door.

Mulder had to have heard her incorrectly.  “In _there_ ,” he asked, nodding towards the club.

“Yes, in there!  I don’t need any eggs, but I could go for some legs.”  She winked at him.

Mulder felt like he’d just won the goddamn lottery.

 _You little **minx** ,_ he thought.

“Let’s do this,” he said, as he guided her towards the door.


	6. The Downward Spiral

The music was loud, and the room had a distinctly purple neon glow.  Scully looked around, wide-eyed and giddy.  This was definitely a night for the history books.  She glanced towards the stage and saw the spotlight shining on a bright silver pole in the middle of a raised stage.  A pretty girl in a tiny thong was hanging upside down, supporting herself with the strength of one athletic knee wrapped around the pole.  Her long, wavy brown hair hung down, and her full breasts commanded their own gravity as the girl slowly spun her way down and around the pole.  As she neared the bottom, she grasped the bottom of the pole with both hands and pushing off with her knee, straightened that leg, leaving her in a handstand position against the pole.  She deftly moved her head to the side of the pole and brought her legs forward into a front walkover off the pole.  She gracefully became upright, arms held high, rotating her shoulders in backwards circles to make her breasts jiggle rapidly; had she been wearing tassels, they would’ve been spinning.  The crowd in front of her roared their approval, and men came up to place bills in her tiny g-string.

Mulder and Scully looked at each other with their mouths slightly ajar.  Scully looked _fascinated_ , Mulder thought.

She also looked extremely turned on.

Because she was.  She tugged Mulder’s hand towards the seats near the stage.  He eagerly followed.

They found an empty table and positioned the two chairs right next to each other, facing the stage.  They stayed there through the duration of the next three dancers.  Scully was glancing around the club, trying to absorb everything at once.  She looked at Mulder.

“One more?” she asked.

He nodded.  He was fine sitting for the time being, because he would’ve had an extremely difficult time trying to walk; not just because he was hard from watching mostly naked girls, but because he was watching mostly naked girls with _Dana Fucking Scully_ , and she was _loving_ every second of it.  Mulder wondered what the step beyond “perfect” might be, because this evening was at the front of the highlight reel he’d carry in his mind for the rest of his life.

 The lights went down to indicate the start of the next dancer’s routine.

The emcee opened the mic, “All the way from the _SUGAR LAND_ in Texas, please welcome to the stage… SINDEL!”

The audience began to cheer.  Mulder briefly thought he recognized the name from one of his video collections back home.  He eagerly watched the stage.

Purple lights began to pulse in time with a disco-techno beat Mulder immediately recognized.

_“You let me violate you…”_

“Closer,” the dark, sultry sex anthem from Nine Inch Nails, echoed through the speakers.

The lights came up on the dancer Sindel, decked out in a skintight little black vinyl outfit, wielding a black and red cat o’ nine tails.

 _Fuuuuuck_ , Mulder thought.  This song…did things…to him.  Should Scully happen to look over, there would be no way of hiding his body’s reaction to what was taking place before him.

Scully, meanwhile, was seriously re-thinking her career path.  She was completely enthralled by Sindel, the music, the cat o’ nine tails.  All of it.  She couldn’t decide if she wanted to fuck Sindel, or to BE her.  Maybe both. 

She’d never told Mulder about her sometimes _very_ strong attraction to women; it wasn’t a subject that ever came up between them.  How long had it been since she’d been with a woman?  She couldn’t remember.

Too fucking long.  Clearly.

 _“I want to fuck you like an animal”  
_ Scully blindly reached out and grabbed Mulder’s forearm, still entranced by the stage.  
_“I want to feel you from the inside”  
_ Scully tightened her grip on Mulder’s arm.  Her nails were slightly digging into his flesh.  
_“I want to fuck you like an ANIMAL!”  
_ Mulder was experiencing sensation overload.  He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment as his breath became shallow.    
_“My whole existence is flawed.  You get me closer to God!”_  
Scully’s nails dug in deeper, leaving scratch marks on Mulder’s arm.  Their eyes were locked on Sindel, who was slowly dragging the cat o’ nine tails up the length of her body, lightly tapping the tailed end against her as she neared her tiny black vinyl thong.  Mulder was white-knuckling the arm of his chair, thinking that the steel pole onstage was an accurate representation of the current state of his anatomy.  His toes were curling inside his shoes.

Sindel was holding both ends of the cat o’ nine tails horizontally against her breasts.  She pushed them together and unhooked the clasp of her bra behind them.  She dropped the tailed end as she held the bra against her breasts, then splayed it open and dropped it to the ground, her huge breasts unleashed and on display.  She dragged the tails across them again, then flicked the whip out and smacked her ass with it, resulting in a loud _CRACK!_

There was not a dry seat in the house; especially Scully’s.  She was clenching her pelvic muscles against the developing ache spreading through the area.  She could feel the tightness of Mulder’s arm.

 _Those arms could pin me to a wall, three feet off the ground,_ she thought.  She began slowly dragging a finger up and down Mulder’s arm as he continued to grab the chair rail with all his strength.

He squirmed in his seat as Sindel continued to work every note of “Closer” for all it was worth.  She was good.  As the last piano notes of the song faded away, the lights on the stage dropped as she exited.

Mulder dared to glance at Scully, who was also eyeing him.  They were both breathing heavily.

A voice spoke up behind them.

“Would you like a dance?”


	7. Doublemint

The small-statured dancer was wearing a sparkling green outfit that left little to the imagination.  Mulder thought the color looked stunning against the dancer’s fiery red hair.  As one, Mulder and Scully both nodded at the dancer.  She smiled and looked at them.

Scully released the grip on Mulder’s arm.  Mulder glanced at her, but she was staring at the dancer, indicating that _she_ was the one who wanted the dance.  The dancer smiled at her and straddled Scully’s lap, beginning to grind and gyrate in very close proximity to Scully’s body.  Mulder could see two little peaks rise midway through Scully’s shirt.  His secret fantasies of Scully painted her with small, pale pink nipples perched at the tips of her small but full breasts.  He had no idea of the color beneath, but from what he could see, he’d judged the size correctly.  Scully was almost matching the dancer’s moves beneath her.

It was all Mulder could do to keep his hands off of himself.  This was too much.  Had you told him that morning, when booking the trip to Texas, that later that night, he’d be watching his partner (and secret love) letting all of her inhibitions loose right in front of him, he could have died on the spot.

But then he’d be missing this.

The dance came to an end, and the dancer left Scully’s lap.  Scully was breathing heavily, breasts straining against her shirt, smiling like the cat who just ate the biggest canary.  She was probably even purring.  She turned her head towards him, eyes heavy-lidded, and a sly smile across her lips.  Her hand lowered onto the top of his and patted it twice.  She stared directly into his eyes and arched an eyebrow as she gave him a slight nod.

Time to go.

Mulder was having a seriously difficult time walking.  The alcohol haze in which they’d entered the club was now gone; his mind was just blown at the events that had transpired since they’d arrived in Texas.

As they left the club, Scully dropped Mulder’s hand.  She briskly began to march to the entrance of the 24-hour XXX Superstore attached to the club.  She was a woman on a mission.

 _What on earth could she be getting?_   Mulder’s mind cartwheeled through the myriad options available behind the glass doors that were drawing Scully towards them like a magnet.

“Scully?” he called after her, as he began to follow.  He would buy her anything, everything, the store had to offer.  She just had to say the word.  Or point, even.  It didn’t matter.  He wondered how long it had been since he’d worn a cock ring.

 _This is the best day of my **life** ,_ blared Mulder’s brain.  He experienced a brief moment of panic, wondering if he’d even be able to last long enough to even get to whatever was about to come back to the hotel with them.  It had been awhile, after all.  Still, the anticipation was nibbling on his nerve endings.

She turned.

“The pajamas I brought are way too hot for this humidity.  I’m sure I can find something in here,” she casually responded, one side of her mouth curving into a mischievous smirk.

“Should I…,” he began.

“Stay here.  I’ll just be a minute,” she told him.

“I’ll go get the car,” he replied.

Scully went in the store, and Mulder returned with their rental.  He waited. 

A “minute”?  He could’ve lost nine Oregon minutes, returned, and traveled another few miles down the road and still comfortably fit within the edges of her minute.

Several minutes later, Scully emerged from the store with two bulky plain brown paper bags.  She got in the car.

“Ready?” she asked.

Mulder pointed the car towards the hotel.


	8. The Big D

Scully kept the tops of the bags rolled tightly closed, angling them away, out of Mulder’s sight, as they entered the hotel and made their way to the elevators.

“Tonight was amazing,” she exclaimed, eyes wide.  “Thank you for taking me.”

Mulder wasn’t entirely sure how to respond.  He was dying to know what Scully had in those two brown bags.  …Maybe none of it was for him?  Was the night over?  He hoped not, but he wasn’t getting his hopes up; he’d been blessed more than he ever could have imagined already tonight.

They exited the elevator and entered through Mulder’s room.  He didn’t turn on the room lights; the only glow was from the bedside lamp, built into the headboard of the bed.

He closed the door and held his breath.  Scully briefly sat one of the bags on the desk in his room.

Scully moved closer to him and shifted the weight of the other bag onto her hip.  She reached up and squeezed the top of Mulder’s left arm.  She smiled blissfully.  He hadn’t seen her look so happy and relaxed in, well, ever.  This was entirely new territory for him.

“I think I finally melted the ice,” she said.  “Death to the Queen!”

Mulder looked confused.  She reached up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek, squeezing his arm again, lovingly. 

“Thank you,” she said, earnestly.

Scully retrieved the second bag off of Mulder’s desk, then turned and entered her own room through the interior connecting door, closing it behind her.  He waited for the sound of the lock to slide home.

It didn’t.

Mulder felt like a lost puppy.  He didn’t try to follow.  He took a few paces around his room, then began to undress.  The image of Scully’s lap dance was permanently imprinted on his brain.   He could still see the way her hips pushed forward and rolled towards the dancer, in time with each other and the music.  He saw her face; eyes closed in concentration and her cheeks flushed with arousal, letting herself live entirely in that moment.  It was sexier than he ever could have imagined.  Not even the face-swapped lap dances he’d conjured in his apartment could come close to seeing the real thing – with the real woman, the _right_ one – happen merely two feet away from where he sat, transfixed.   He closed his eyes and winced, reliving the moment, and feeling his pants begin to tighten.  He removed his shirt and unbuttoned his pants.  He quickly kicked off his shoes and stepped out of his pants.  He glanced in the mirror over the bureau.  Even in the dim light, he appeared content.  He was never overly happy with his appearance, but as he gave himself a once-over in the mirror, he actually thought he looked good.  Maybe “happy” suited him. 

He glanced down at the black boxer briefs that were beginning to lose the fight against the rising threat shielded behind the thin cotton.  He hooked his thumbs in the waistband, but before he pulled them down, there was a knock on the connecting door.

The boxer briefs immediately became even tighter in response.  Had she changed her mind?  Did she forget something?  He decided to play it cool, yet not attempt to hide the developing situation in his shorts.

“It’s open, Scully,” he said.  “Come on in.”

She opened the door and stood in the doorway for a moment.  The lights were off in her room, so she was just a tiny silhouette in the light cast by Mulder’s bedside lamp.  He stared, wondering why she was waiting.

“Scully?”

She entered.  She was wearing one of his starched white dress shirts, unbuttoned, sleeves double rolled.  He recognized it as one he’d left in the overnight bag he left at her apartment; she had a similarly packed bag at his.  Underneath, she was wearing black lingerie; nothing about it ordinary.  It had a high neckline with a sheer bodice, dramatically split down the center to the waistband, which was made out of a wet look vinyl, clasped with a small gold buckle.  The lower half of the outfit was made of the same vinyl material, cut almost like a bathing suit, but shinier. 

Mulder’s eyes returned to the sheer fabric at her breasts; it in no way obscured what was underneath.   Pale pink nipples.  He sucked in some air and gently bit his lower lip upon realizing he’d been correct.

 _“Fox Mulder, Nipple Profiler”_ flashed briefly into his brain. _Is that a job?  It **should** be, _ he thought.

SHUT THE FUCK UP!!  _THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR JOKES,_ Mulder internally screamed at himself.

Mulder blinked and looked at Scully.  She was still there.  He couldn’t get over the added touch of his dress shirt over the sheer lingerie.  It was very dramatic against her porcelain skin, and his shirt hung low on her small frame, drawing attention to her bare feet with their perfectly pedicured red toenails.

All he could do was stare.  She was so tiny.  So perfect.  So uninhibited.  She wanted him.

 _She wants me,_ he thought, dumbfounded.

Mulder was consumed with indecision.  Should he stride over and roughly kiss her, not holding back on the exquisite hunger he felt for her?  Should he instead gingerly kiss that perfect angel pout, painted a matte crimson red?  He was torn between wanting to unwrap her like the most delicate gift she most certainly was, and being completely consumed with the idea of tearing off every stitch she wore.

 _Slow down, buddy,_ he reprimanded himself. _What does **she** want?_

She was beautiful beyond anything he could have imagined, and the lust in her eyes was palpable.  She slowly took him in, hair to face to chest to arms to stomach to the boxer briefs doing absolutely nothing to disguise the rock solid flesh behind it.  Her mouth parted slightly as she inhaled in reaction to what she saw, but she continued to let her eyes take the scenic route down the anatomy of Fox Mulder.  His legs were thin, compared to the bulk of his biceps, but everything was well-defined.  She reversed the journey and he watched her eyes work their way back up his almost entirely exposed body. 

 _Six-pack, deep V-cut, gorgeous arms; my God, what has he been hiding under those suits,_ Scully thought, awestruck.  She had always thought Mulder was cute, as she’d told her sister when she was first assigned to the X-Files.  This, though.  This was in a different league entirely.  _If he didn’t spend his time in the bowels of the Hoover building, or trying to dodge bullets and abductions, he could be in magazines._   Her eyes traveled back to the straining boxer briefs. _Underwear magazines._

She’d subscribe.

Mulder watched her face as she took in everything he physically had to offer her.  She looked hungry.  Ravenous.  He allowed himself a small smirk when he noticed her attention kept returning to the one part of him that was still clothed.  Those were not looks of a shy, virginal creature.  He became comfortable with the idea of going at her as roughly as she was looking at him.  This could be _explosive._

He stood up straight and confidently matched her gaze.  She appeared completely self-assured, yet for a brief second, he saw a blink-and-it’s-gone flicker of uncertainty cloud her eyes.  She blinked her eyes closed for a beat.  Mulder swallowed and wondered if this was suddenly his exit.

Dana Scully re-opened her eyes and gazed at the astonishingly beautiful man before her.  Mulder saw, with relief, that the hunger was still readily apparent in her stare.  That wasn’t all it was, though.  He could tell.  There was tenderness there.  Is this what love looks like?  Mulder had no idea.

Scully parted her lips, wetting them with her tongue as she prepared to ask the scariest, most potentially devastating question of her life.  She regarded Mulder with a quizzical expression on her face.

 “I’m not wrong,” she said; a statement, not a question, punctuated with a slight shake of her head.  _“Am I?”_ was implied, but her pride would not allow her to ask.  She closed her mouth and met his eyes.

His mouth opened slightly as he shook his head, hoping the disbelief he felt wasn’t radiating off of him like hot neon lights.

“No.”  
  
Then, more forcefully.  “ **No.** ”

Mulder exhaled.  He smiled a lopsided smile of prayers answered and dreams come to life.

She approached him.

“What was that song,” she asked, with an impish glint in her eye.  “I want to fuck you…?”

“Like an animal?” he finished.

Her voice was husky as she laughed.  “Yeah, that’s it.”

She reached her hand up to his chest and laid her palm flat against it.  Her hand began its descent.

She dragged it down, slowly, over his nipple, further down the ridges cut into the muscle of his stomach.

She reached the waistband of his boxer briefs and didn’t stop.  Over the material, her hand felt his length; his strength.  He inhaled sharply as his entire body shuddered.

It was all the encouragement Mulder needed.  Closing the final distance between them, he scooped her up against him, her legs wrapping around his waist.  She threw one arm around his neck, twining her fingers through the back of his hair.  He met her eyes for a millisecond.  Hers were dilated just like his, and it had nothing to do with the dim light in the room.  Their breathing was shallow.

When he kissed her, _finally_ kissed her, there was nothing held back.  He devoured her, and she responded in kind.  He stumbled out of the desert and realized his oasis was real.

He blindly carried her towards the bed.  As he prepared to lay her down and rip the clothes from her body, he briefly felt something lightly tickle his thigh. “ _What the--??_ ”  He didn’t have time to complete his thought.

He felt Scully’s feral grin against his teeth as she tightened the hold of her legs around his naked waist.

He didn’t see the cat o’ nine tails behind her back.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not the characters, not the song, I got nada. Mulder and Scully wanted to play, so I let them. I returned them to their original packaging and put them back on the shelf. It's all good.  
> \-------------------
> 
> This was originally written in one night and called "The Imp"... I posted it on Tumblr (before my account was active here), and there were crickets.
> 
> I went back and kept the main ideas and expanded on everything else. It pretty much doubled in size (...that's what she said?). I like the newer version of the story.
> 
> The idea for the boob game was from that one blooper reel from the early seasons where David accidentally grabs Gillian's boob. Then I saw the Season 10 blooper from "Founder's Mutation," where Gillian got an apple to the boob and went down.
> 
> It spiraled from there.
> 
> This is my first fic, and definitely the first time I've written anything of a slightly smut-like nature.
> 
> It is not, however, my first experience with a cat o' nine tails. Take that as you will.
> 
> Also, years ago, I did stay at a cool hotel in Dallas, and was stunned to find an Adult Superstore across the street. I knew I'd get back to that someday.
> 
> Comments greatly appreciated!!
> 
> I have a *HUGE* idea for a fic, which I've been researching more than I think 1013 researched anything for the Revival.  
> This was my practice.


End file.
